Mere Machines
by inkdragon13
Summary: After having their individuality stripped from them, life lost its meaning, and they lost the fear of death. They all wanted to have this fear, and one mech decided to act on that desire, serving as a trigger.


**Haven't been here in a while, but it feels good to be back. :)**

**This is actually a short story that I wrote for my AP Literature and Composition class for the end of the school year. Our last unit was short story, one that I very much enjoyed. Please pardon some of the non-Transformers terminology as I have chosen to leave this story in its original condition. **

**This is told through a Vehicon's perspective. I do not own Transformers, Hasbro does. **

We are all stuck under the dark, and no one seems to want to do a single thing about it.

A few of us sat in the recreational center, quiet as usual. Looking around, I saw me. All of them looked like me, and I looked like all of them. Nothing but black, dark grey and dark purple. Some of us had refreshments as we sat at tables and around the perimeter of the dark room. There was only the quiet conversation between a few people sitting in the far corner.

Sitting near the back of the room by my friend, I looked out of the window, watching the overcast sky with a blank expression.

I remember when I wasn't like this. It was so many years ago, my memories from that time are starting to fade away, something that I deathly fear. I've seen people forget their real names, their lives before this, their families… I'm just glad that I still remember for myself.

Long before I ended up here, I used to a transport ship pilot – among the best in my city. It was my job, as well as a favorite hobby of mine, something that I did whenever I needed a moment to relax. I remember my two little children, but I am starting to forget their faces. I only clearly remember their bright eyes. I also remember the massive library with towering columns and wanting to go in there. But, of course, it was strictly banned from public access.

I used to believe their cause. They told us all that they were fighting for equality among all people. Now, no one can remember why we are even fighting.

One day I heard of a radical group when I was out looking for jet maintenance equipment. I stopped and stared at the massive screen above my head, suddenly only paying attention to the men speaking. They were saying that they ought to be treated the same way others are treated. I could immediately tell that these people were of a lower caste. In the background I could see that there were grizzled, scarred men with hardened expressions on their faces. Dirt covered most of them, and the misfortunes of life could be seen in their steely eyes. All of them seemed to be looking out at a crowd as the strongest one took the stage. I recognized the man as a very famous, undefeated gladiator. He stood tall and confident in front of the crowd I could see.

He thundered things like all people deserved to be treated equally, and that we are all the same. He said that there was no difference between himself, a former mine worker, and the great creators of this land. He stomped his boot hard on the stage to emphasize his words as he shouted that they were to do whatever they could to reach their goals. The crowd roared in response to his calls for action.

I was not in a low caste, so I didn't know what it felt like to be treated as cannon fodder and mere cogs in a machine, but I was attracted to the idea of equality. I had heard the terms regarding the caste system since I was small, and once I got older, I saw that the leaders did this in order to keep people doing their decided duty in life.

I figured out later, after being mesmerized by the gladiator, that the system was also meant to keep people from stepping out of their place and dreaming of having something bigger than what the leaders deemed appropriate for them. It was meant to define the image of a person before they even have the capacity to do so on their own. It was meant to keep them from thinking about the past and subsequently, how their present could be without a caste system. They wanted to keep people from thinking about how much different their lives would be, and from questioning the place that they were put in.

It was meant to block insight.

I was drawn to that, and sought to gain that same sort of vision. I believed that they ought to be treated equally. I found that the group that this gladiator led had already spread far and wide, and it was not difficult to find their branch in my city. After joining them, I saw what they were like from the inside. The first thing I noticed was their disdain for the people who decided not to join this group. They went for the opposing side, the side that the leaders agreed with. I heard that the other side wanted equality as well, but in a different way. I have a difficult time remembering.

In joining the group I thought that I would be able to add my voice, to make a difference on the journey to achieving equality for the lower castes. I quickly learned that this was a terrible thought to harbor while working with them. We all were meant to follow orders and nothing else.

And so, it has been that way since then. People from all over the city, people with different backgrounds, were stripped of everything. Money no longer mattered, since our group seized it all. We were made to believe that family no longer mattered, since we were no longer allowed to see them. We all were required to wear the same uniform. Our self-esteem and self value no longer mattered because all they needed from each individual was a body to send into combat.

We have been fighting for so long that most of us don't even know what in the world we are fighting for. Our fighting with the opposite side essentially destroyed the land that we were fighting to conquer, and is now unsafe for civilian life. Resources are at an all time low, and we don't know where what's left of the opposites is hiding.

So we bent under all of this. We are nothing but nameless drones. All we do is wait for the next attack from the opposites. Many of us do not return from these attacks - not that it mattered much to us. Our lives had become meaningless, making us unafraid of death.

No. I want to make a difference. I want some sort of purpose, and I want the rest of us to have a true sense of purpose. And I have recently been thinking of a way to do it.

Smiling for the first time in longer than I can remember, I stood and left for my quarters.

...

It took an old photo for me to get this correct, but I made it nonetheless. I returned to the recreational room and the quiet chatter instantly silenced itself. They all seemed to stare in horror at me. I squared my shoulders and prepared myself for their reactions.

"1366, why?" My friend looked at me from near the window I was once sitting near. Other people around him continued to stare, as if they were saying the same thing. I looked at him and gave him a little smile and responded.

"My name isn't 1366. It's Steve." I stood before all of them, dressed how I used to. I liked to wear bright colors – so I decided to put on fiery red and orange. It was strange being back in these colors, but it felt better than anything had for a very long time. What made it all even better is that I decided to use my true name.

Some people looked at me in shock while the others started to look around at each other. Then I heard other people recalling their names. The chatter grew more energetic as they all rediscovered the unique quality and purpose of their own names.

I smiled as people started to file out of the room, heading off into different directions. I had a pretty good idea as to where all of them were going. They were going to follow my lead and go back to how they looked before they joined this group. They moved with such eagerness that I think that I was more like a trigger. I wasn't the only one having these thoughts, but I was the only one brave enough to act on them first.

Before long, people sporting every type of color walked the dark halls, holding their heads higher. It was as if sunlight had broken through the dull ceiling. It didn't take long for people to start laughing and having fun again. There was yellow and blue and pink everywhere. It was wonderful to watch after reminding them that they can choose for themselves what they want to do.

People seemed to rally around me, pushing for change in how we all were treated. We wanted to have choices in our lives. We wanted to make a difference in our own lives and be different.

We wanted to be afraid of death.

They crowded around me, shouted and hooting about change, a sound that was very familiar from long ago. I felt happy for all of them, having reminded them of who they are. I hoped that this rally would turn into a revolt, forcing the commanders and our leader to make changes for us. Yes, we would revolt and rise up, refusing to be numbers. We'd be Steve, James, Jacob, Aaron, Shelby, Anna, and countless more. It would be wonderful to have ourselves back.

Then suddenly, everyone around me grew silent. Confused I looked around at the crowd until I turned completely to face the other way. Now I see why everything is quiet.

There stood our leader, that same gladiator from so long ago, with a sinister and dark expression on his face. He looked down at no one else but me. The others around me would have backed away if it was just a commanding officer, but because of how intimidating our leader's presence was, no one dared to move.

"You encouraged this… _uprising_," he said, as if the last word tasted bitter. "I applaud your effort, but I cannot allow this to get out of hand."

I stood in my red and orange and looked up at him. I did not cower; I only stood there looking up at him. Surprisingly, fear did rush into me, and even though it is never a pleasant emotion, I knew that it meant one thing. I had given myself purpose in my life.

Then he seized me by the neck and lifted me easily into the air. I maintained eye contact with our leader even as he squeezed harder around my neck. A snarl wrinkled his face as he drew a hidden sword and aimed the tip of the blade at my chest.

"You are sentenced to execution for disrupting the chain of command, 1366," he growled in his familiar deep voice.

Even with his hand around my neck, I managed to croak out, "No, my name is Steve."

…Just now, I discovered what this group truly wanted. It was never equality. It was control. All the while, I watched the opposites work to protect those who could not defend themselves, while my side did everything they could to get control of all the land and destroy all those in their way. At least I won't go out under my side's control.

I should have joined the opposites, but at least I made a difference somewhere.

Then, I smiled as he pushed the blade through my h-

**This was one of my shorter stories, and one of my only featuring just the Decepticons. I've always imagined that the life of a mere Vehicon foot soldier was not very pleasant. No person in their right mind would allow for themselves to be thrown out in combat with zero regard for their own safety. **

**The point of this is the show that in order to keep control of a large group of people is to strip them of their individuality, and when one person decides to be different, that little revolting flame will be snuffed out to maintain control of the rest of the people.**

**Hope you like it, and till next time! :)**

**P.S. Since I have just graduated high school, I'll have a lot more free time, meaning that I will have more time to work on my stories here. The one that I am working on now is the 23rd chapter of Tiny, but I plan to get to my other ones. **


End file.
